PS I Love You
by EnglishPoet18
Summary: Who the hell did this Rick Grimes think he was? Everybody who was anybody knew that this was his Carol. He didn't share. Not happening. No. Fucking. Way. And if this Rick Grimes didn't know this, well then he would very soon because Daryl Dixon might have been a pussy, but he damn sure wasn't going down without a fight. Cop or not. CARYL ONESHOT / RATED M


**Hey, hey, hey! Miss me? I've been around, doing stuff and thangs, but mostly writing. I just haven't been writing fanfiction. I'm working on a personal goal of mine to write a book and I'm pleased to say that I'm making great progress.**

 **Since I've been absent so long I was hesitant to post anything. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up that I'm back writing anything at the moment. I will be back to my other stories, but it's going to take me some time. I apologize in advance for that. I more or less took a break just to pound this oneshot out. You can thank VickiH for her relentless pursuit to get me to write. Gods, I love that woman! Anyway, just thought I would post this here to say hello and that I'm not dead. Thought you all might enjoy a little bit of smutty Caryl lovin' because well, who wouldn't?! So hello to all, hope you are all well! Enjoy!**

"Alright, you pussy. You can do this... It's just Carol." Daryl muttered his little phrases of motivation over and over as he navigated his bike down the highway. There was a storm brewing in the distance. Clouds were rolling in and he tried to keep from seeing that as an omen.

He'd made this trip countless times, so many times that he was pretty sure if left undirected that his bike would auto navigate straight to her driveway. She was his best friend.

And he was in love with her.

He just didn't have the balls to tell her. He'd thought about it.. Thought about it so hard that it damn near drove him nuts. And after thinking about it almost constantly over the past two months, he was finally going to sit her down and tell her how he felt.

He didn't know if she felt the same way, but he was tired of pretending.

He was tired of pretending he didn't purposely scoot closer to her while on the couch watching a movie, the smell of her perfume like a drug to his senses.

He was tired of pretending that he wanted them to take the bike just because it was better on gas. The feel of her arms wrapped around his waist was about the closest to heaven he figured he'd ever been without dying.

Merle constantly gave him shit about it. He endured his brothers berating comments only because he knew he couldn't truthfully deny them.

So armed with three shots of whiskey in his belly, he finally turned into her driveway. This was it. The moment that could potentially make them or break them. And his palms were sweating like a first grader about to embark on their first day of school.

Surreptitiously rubbing them into his jeans, he climbed the porch steps. Her car was sitting in the driveway. If you could call it a car. That's what she called it, but Daryl only saw a deathtrap that he would spend every afternoon working on if she would only let him. As per their usual routine, he rapped twice on the door and then opened it a crack, poking his head inside.

"Carol?"

He could hear the distant sound of a hair dryer in the distance and he frowned. Was she going somewhere? She hadn't mentioned anything a few days ago when he'd come over after receiving her frantic phone call about a monster rat.

As it turned out, her monster had been no more than a tiny baby field mouse which he promptly released into the woods among her high pitched squeals.

Knowing how jumpy she could be from past experiences, he made his way towards the bathroom down the hall to announce his presence. Except when he reached the open bathroom door all his good intentions flew out the window like Merle that time he lit his ass on fire.

There she stood, no more than two feet in front of him, her body bent over, hair dryer in hand. Her short hair was still damp at the neck from where she had taken a recent shower. But what really stopped him in his tracks was the view that this position afforded him.

Had he received more of his brother's genes he might have taken advantage of the angle with which she was bent and pressed his growing erection against her very nice ass. But he hadn't and even whiskey didn't make him that brave. His eyes roamed her figure and it took him a minute to realize she was wearing a dress.

Why was she wearing a dress?

She never dressed up. She had always been a casual kind of woman and he loved that about her.

Fighting back the lustful rights that took his brain he stepped forward and touched the small of her back, mindful of where his fingers reached. A shrill shriek followed by a black cord whizzing past his head caused him to duck and cover yelling out, "It's me!"

With the noise from the dryer gone, he glanced up at her. One hand covered her chest while the other still held the hair dryer, the cord hanging limply to the floor from where she had snatched it.

And because the three shots of whiskey were still swirling around in his belly he did something he rarely ever did: he laughed. It wasn't his normal chuckle or signature Dixon smirk, but a full-blown belly laugh. He laughed so hard that he had to brace himself with one hand on the door as she stared at him in shock.

And then she whacked him.

With her hair brush.

And it hurt like a son of a bitch.

"You scared the hell out of me, Daryl Dixon!"

He ducked another blow from her brush, his laughter dying as he held up his hands in surrender. "I'm sorry! I was trying to let you know I was here so you wouldn't be surprised."

"So you sneak up on me and tap me on the back?" Her wide gorgeous blue eyes continued to stare at him.

"Lesson learned," he replied as he stared pointedly at her brush.

She huffed, but he could see a smile peeking at the corners of her mouth. Then she turned her back to him and every coherent thought he ever had faded.

Her dress- if you could call it that- remained unzipped. And he was now getting an eyeful of slender back and creamy white skin. Any further and he wouldn't have to use his imagination for his fantasies anymore.

"Zip me up?" Her voice broke his thoughts.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward, both of their reflections now present in the mirror. His fingers felt fat and clumsy, but somehow he managed to grasp the zipper. He zipped it up as slow as he dared, mindful of the way his fingertips grazed against her skin. The black dress hugged every curve known to man when he was done.

She smiled at him in the mirror, seemingly unaffected and began to apply makeup.

"Going somewhere?" He finally asked.

"As a matter of fact I am. I have a date."

Of all the things he could have dreamed she would say, that had never been one. All of his past fantasies, all of his preparation on the ride over, died an instant death. And in their place he began to get annoyed.

"A date," he repeated slowly, "With who?"

"Rick Grimes."

He huffed and crossed his arms as he watched her. "Rick Grimes? What kinda name is Rick Grimes?"

"He's a cop," she responded as if he wasn't even dying on the inside.

"Is that so?" Maybe there was still a part of him that took after his brother because it was getting harder and harder to mask his annoyance. He was at a loss for words, his mind portraying images that invoked his worst possible nightmares come true.

Who the hell did this Rick Grimes think he was? Everybody who was anybody knew that this was his Carol.

He didn't share. Not happening. _No_. _Fucking_. _Way_.

And if this Rick Grimes didn't know this, well then he would very soon because Daryl Dixon might have been a pussy, but he damn sure wasn't going down without a fight. Cop or not.

"Over my dead body," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Carol's eyes slid to his in the mirror.

The knock at the door saved him from answering her as they both stared in that direction.

"I'll get it," he offered a bit too eagerly.

There was a clatter behind him and then Carol yelled, "Daryl, wait!"

Damn those whiskey shots and damn this cop for thinking that he was taking _his_ woman out on a date. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Without a thought to what he was doing, Daryl popped the buttons on his shirt and ran his fingers through his already unruly hair. Satisfied with his image, he flung open the door. He tried not to laugh.

A tall lanky man stood on Carol's porch wearing dress pants and a collared shirt that looked like it just came off the sales rack of some high-end department store. On his hip was a holster and a cell phone.

Daryl wasn't impressed. The two men locked eyes and Daryl watched the flicker of confusion flash through his eyes.

"Uh, is Carol here?"

Daryl propped one forearm against the door frame and smirked. "Yeah, she's here."

The guy waited, but Daryl didn't offer anything else except one raised eyebrow. He noticed with satisfaction that Rick was now taking in his state of dress and likely putting two and two together in his mind like Daryl had hoped.

"Do you think you could get her for me?" Rick asked.

"I just zipped up her dress so she should be out in a minute," Daryl replied.

Rick's eyes widened and then narrowed as he stared Daryl down.

"Rick?" Carol's voice chimed from behind them and she opened the door, looking between them both curiously. "What are you doing out here? Daryl?"

Daryl retained eye contact until Rick dragged his eyes away first. He started to speak, but the gaping expression on her face stopped him.

Then he realized that he looked a little different since a few minutes ago when she had last seen him. For instance, his shirt was gaping open and his chest was bared for all to see.

He watched her eyes trail over his bare skin and he wanted to take her. He wanted to slam the door in Rick's arrogant face and peel the dress from her body. Her checks flushed with color as she realized that they were both staring at her and waiting.

"Umm..." She smacked her lips together.

Merle would have been proud had he seen the cocky look that Daryl gave Rick.

Ricks features tightened. "Maybe this is a bad time," he suggested.

"Maybe-" Daryl began, but Carol's slap to his chest cut him off.

"What are you doing?" She demanded.

"Carol-"

"Don't _Carol,_ me. You've got two minutes to tell me what the hell this is." Her eyes flashed with fire.

Rick looked pleased. Daryl clenched his teeth together. He could feel it building. That tension that always lied below the surface lately when they were around one another...he felt it. He tried to rein it in, he really did, but holding their tongues had never been a Dixon trait.

"You're not going on a date with Robocop," he replied.

"Excuse me?" Carol's mouth dropped open.

Rick made to take a step forward, but Daryl's outstretched hand stopped his progress.

"Easy, Barney. Don't think you wanna go there," Daryl warned.

"He can go where he pleases! He's my date!" Carol hissed.

"The hell you say!" His own voice rose along with his anger.

"Wait just a minute-" Rick began.

"Shut up!" Daryl barked.

"Daryl!"

"Date's over," Daryl declared in a huff as he ushered her inside and kicked the door shut with his steel toed boot.

Carol sputtered within his grasp, giving him the evil eye as he dragged her into the living room.

"Explain yourself," she demanded as she twisted free.

In that moment it was decided for Daryl. This was the point where he would hold back no longer. She was his. And he wasn't leaving until she was aware of that fact.

Pushing out the sound of Rick's voice on the other side of the front door, Daryl stalked toward Carol. She retreated until her back hit the couch halting her escape. He placed one hand on each of her cheeks, framing her face.

And then he kissed her.

Months upon months of pent-up desire coursed through his loins as he poured his whole heart into the kiss. It was only when his tongue hit hers that he realized something:

She was kissing him back.

Her eager acceptance only fueled his fire and a growl erupted from his throat as he staked his claim. He wanted his hands everywhere at once. Sliding them down her hips she moaned into his mouth as he pressed his body tightly against her own.

Her soft hands grasped the lapels of his shirt and tugged until it began to slide down his arms, the work-stained fabric having seen better days. She pulled her lips from his own as her eyes greedily took him in. He stifled a groan when she bit down on her lip. Fighting to regain control of his raging hormones, he let his forehead fall against her own.

"No date," he panted.

She shook her head quickly, her eyes mirroring his desire. "No date," she agreed.

"Carol, I..."

She silenced him with a kiss. "We'll talk later. Put your hands on me."

 _Fuck_.

His breath left him in a whoosh as her hands fumbled with his belt. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled into her neck, his tongue snaking over her skin, her scent driving him onward. Her forceful fingers worked open the button on his jeans and slid down his zipper.

He swallowed a mouthful of much needed air. "It's a shame," he whispered.

"What is?" She responded raggedly.

His intense blue eyes bored into her and she gasped as a ripping sound pierced through the air around them. Her dress fell to her feet in a pool of silky material.

"I really liked that dress," he finished in a low voice.

Her breath caught as he kicked off his boots and let his jeans fall free. "You can buy me another one," she breathed as she drank him in.

"I'll buy you eight hundred goddamn dresses," he promised.

He dipped his head and ran his mouth over her panty-clad body. He couldn't seem to get enough of her. The sight of her before him, nearly naked and panting was way better than anything he had dreamed.

She hooked her fingers into her panties and pushed them down to her ankles. Taking his hand, she guided it to the heat between her legs. He slid one long finger inside of her and closed his eyes with a sigh.

Holding his chiseled forearm, she pushed him, urging him deeper and harder. He complied and she leaned into the couch for support as her legs grew shaky. All while he watched her.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. Watching the expressions of pleasure cross her face was blissful torture, but in the best possible way. He wanted to be inside of her right that second, but he wanted to watch her cum first.

Her eyelids drooped, desire clouding her vision as he pushed another finger inside of her.

"Daryl... I need..."

" _Fuck_. I know what you need, Sweetheart," he grunted.

At this rate, he would blow his load all over her belly before he ever got inside of her. Her cries rocketed through the air as her hands clutched at his shoulders, her orgasm shaking her.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead as he jerked his briefs down, his erection springing free. Grasping his hot flesh in one tight fist, he guided himself into her. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist.

He picked her up into the air and carried them around the couch. Laying her down on the soft cushions he slowly thrust into her. She immediately arched into him, purring in the back of her throat.

"Harder."

Dammit, she was going to kill him.

Pulling back he thrust roughly into her, their hips jarring together from the force. She swiped a stray stand of hair from his face and smiled at him. His heart soared and in that moment his love for her was crystal clear.

Being inside of her, connecting with her in such an intimate way solidified his feelings for her. There would never be another for him. She was it.

Hooking one arm beneath her knee he lifted her leg and pushed himself deeper. She cried out, her body writhing even as her nails raked over his back. Propping himself on one hand he reached between them. He rubbed his finger over her clit repeatedly until she came apart beneath him.

He watched in awe. Her lips parted, her face grew flush, and an expression of pure contentment overcame her. He held himself on the very edge of control.

"Gonna cum. Gotta pull out," he ground out.

She held tight to him, not letting him budge an inch. He couldn't hold back any longer and he shouted obscenities as he spilled himself inside of her. Her body milked every last drop that he had to give before he pulled out and collapsed beside her. His heart was racing as he curled an arm around her and pulled her into him, his brain working a thousand miles a minute.

She must have mistaken his expression for guilt. "It's okay. I'm on the pill," she explained.

But that was the furthest thing from his mind. He already knew he wanted to be with her forever. It was saying the words out loud that was a revelation for him.

"Daryl?" She propped herself on one arm, her expression becoming worried.

His eyes met hers and he felt it again like a punch to the gut. His need to protect, his jealousy, and his need to claim her as his own all boiled to the surface. He braced himself on his elbows, bringing their faces close together.

"I love you, Carol."

He didn't have to wait for her response as a tear trickled down her cheek. He chased it with his thumb as it pooled in the corner of her mouth. He knew that if she loved him too then that was all they needed. Anything else they could work out over time as long as he had her love. His heart stuttered a beat when she finally uttered the words he had been waiting his whole life to hear:

"I love you, too."


End file.
